


The Secret of Supply Closet Delta

by Jarakrisafis



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 03:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jazz failed to find out just what went on in Supply Closet Delta, Mirage decided it was up to him to complete the mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secret of Supply Closet Delta

Mirage shifted position as he waited for the door in front of him to be opened so that he could slip through unnoticed. Not that he was sure that he wanted to enter. He shouldn't be so afraid of a simple closet. However this is the closet that had defeated _Jazz_. He had gone to investigate and couldn't remember a thing. Not even in his back up memory core or even in the backup of his backups which all special operations agents kept.

No. The closet was dangerous.

But he was going to find the answer.

He had stood in the control room of the new Decepticon ship, the Nemesis, unnoticed. A closet in medbay couldn't be too difficult.

But first the door had to be opened, and preferably before he slipped offline from boredom.

Finally. That was the overriding thought as Hoist came in his direction and stepped into the closet. Mirage was right behind him, the door nearly clipping his heels as he slipped into the room. The medic had moved to one side, reaching for something on a small shelf beside the door and Mirage edged backwards in the small space so that he wasn't in the way...

His processor span up to consciousness in a whirl of combat protocols tempered with the automatic need to stay silent and unseen. Deep coded programming had sensors pushed to full capacity to find out where he was and what had happened, all without giving an outward sign that he was back online. It was the first line of the self diagnostic that made him pause, his spark skipping a pulse: electro-disrupter disengaged.

That was... less than ideal.

It was mere nanoseconds for that realisation, that he was fully visible, before voices kept him quiet, listening in with a complete lack of regard for privacy that comes with being trained to pick out any useful information from the most boring of enemy conversations.

“He's just going to keep returning.” Hoist, his vocal pattern recognition software informed him. “It was only luck that we caught him this time.”

“Slagging ops, suspicion and curiosity are not a good mix.” Ratchet's acid laced tones were hard to miss and Mirage could almost see the disgruntled expression on his face.

“So what do you suggest ? Let him in on the secret?”

A rattle of armour plating being settled from an irritated flare was audible before Ratchet accepted the inevitable. “We're going to have too.”

The prod of fingers against his medical access port made him light his optics. He was already online, he didn't need either of them poking around in his processor to bring him out of stasis.

The irritated growl made him flinch as Ratchet stopped before he plugged in, his quiet growl about 'slagging operations mechs' and 'fragging invisibility mods' wisely left unchallenged.

“You've been listening in.” Hoist didn't bother with niceties as he stared down at the spy, “You tell nobody about this. Not even Jazz.”

“Although Prowl already knows.” Ratchet interjected with a wicked smirk.

“And would rather he didn't know.” Hoist added, an equally sinister expression crossing his faceplates.

“This?” Mirage carefully asked, after all, the last he had seen had been a very small medical closet, right before he had triggered something and had stumbled backwards into what should have been a stack of shelves, his optics protesting the sudden influx of information.

“Our... rest room.” Hoist said, stepping back to allow Mirage to see that he was indeed in a fair sized room. And quite a cosy room as well, none of the orange glare that had taken up residence around the rest of the ship (Teletraan's love of the colour was not appreciated by many mechs), instead it was a cosy green with a couple of very comfortable berths, one of which he was making use of. A small energon dispenser was in one corner beside a well loved chair overflowing with cushions and a stack of recreational datapads were stacked on a shelf.

None of that explained why the medics had decided to hide their rest room inside a closet. His expression must have said as much as Hoist simply pointed underneath the berth he was occupying.

Mirage raised one elegantly sculpted optical brow before rolling over to peer underneath.

He reset his optics before pulling his helm back up to stare with bright optics at the two smirking medics.

Oh!

That explained quite a bit.

In fact, he shivered, plating vibrating as he realised that the smirks were exceedingly predatory and he was lying on a berth between them with nowhere to run.

Something caught his optics and he amended his previous statement: he was lying on a berth that had _restraints_ attached.


End file.
